Creature of the Night
by VampLover1
Summary: CONTEST FINALIST: A dark and spooky one-shot for the "Eric and his Great Pumpkin" Halloween contest. A lonely young woman and a mysterious stranger share a strange connection, but is he real or a creature of the night? AU.


**Eric and His Great Pumpkin One-shot Contest**

**Title:**** Creature of the Night**

**Pen name:**** VampLover1**

**Characters:**** Sookie and Eric**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the rights to the characters and stories in the Southern Vampire Mystery series. **

**They are the sole property of Ms. Charlaine Harris.**

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_It is a full-moon Halloween night, and unseasonably cold winds whip autumn leaves in every direction. The rains are hard and unrelenting against the rural Louisiana landscape; trick-or-treating will be seriously hampered tonight. A young child sits in the back of her parents' station wagon, her cumbersome costume causing her to shift her position from time to time. The girl is sleepy but content; the hypnotic rhythm of the wipers and the soft murmur of adult voices float back and comfort her. Unbuckling the seatbelt, she spreads across the bench seat and adjusts her fairy wings, hoping that nothing has damaged the delicate, white gauze-and-wire adornment her Gran has spent so much time making. She closes her mind to outside thoughts and lets herself slowly drift away. _

_The school pageant that evening is a pleasant-enough affair -- the costumes creative, the children adorable, the parents proud. After the customary pleasantries and polite conversation, the town residents head for their cars, the children anxious to get home for the annual ritual of candy collection. But dark clouds conceal the beautiful full moon; the skies open up, and people scatter for cover. The journey back home is slow and circuitous—the main road leading to Hummingbird Lane is flooded, and an alternate route becomes necessary. The driver draws away from his doting wife's attentions to consider his options, making a fateful decision to cross the old bridge spanning the creek._

_The vehicle slips in the flash flood and then spins, the guard rail buckling under so much force. A woman's panicked scream pierces the eerie silence that fills the car. The girl awakens to the feeling of weightlessness, of the suspension that comes with flying. It is a strange sensation, and before she can process what has changed, her unrestrained body is propelled to the car's ceiling. The pain in her head and back consumes her; she is too shocked to register the falling and rapid descent of the car as it plunges into the swirling, black waters below._

_She slips in and out of consciousness. At one point, she becomes aware of the cold water, the rushing, numbing current which tries to pull her further down. She frantically looks around the car for her parents; but it is too dark, it is too deep. The diminishing air and her rising panic make it difficult to breathe. She struggles to hear in her head what she hopes will bring her comfort. But the utter silence confirms her worst fear: she is alone. _

_All goes dark, but then another waking moment finds glass shattering just before she is pulled and dragged through the car's back window. She panics because she is trapped, unable to fit through the opening despite the urgent yank on her slippery arms. But large hands reach in deeper, roughly ripping the beautiful but burdensome wings from her costume. She is finally free. The child's tiny legs and arms forcefully scrape against jagged edges, but the blood is not visible in the dark. She coughs and chokes, and it seems like her lungs will burst. But then, thankfully, her head is above the chilly water. _

_She feels a tight grip around her waist and is firmly held against what must surely be a man's chest. As she clutches and clings to him, he tightens his hold as they move through the swift water. Although she cannot clearly see her rescuer in the patchy moonlit night, she senses his large stature and feels small and protected in his embrace. The pain in her body drags her back into the darkness, but not before the girl imagines she and her savior flying away from the horror and death in the waters beneath them._

_A strong fire consumes the pile of broken tree limbs gathered before her. She blinks and sits up, in pain and in shock. Rubbing her bloody arms, the girl leans in closer to the fire for more warmth. She is on the bank of the rapidly rising creek, muddied and wet, relieved that the rain has stopped. She looks up to see the full moon's bright glow amidst the clearing clouds, its distant light a beacon of hope. The child looks around and tries to find her rescuer, wanting to thank him, wanting to see him. But she is alone. Young, scared, and utterly alone. _

_The tears flow as she hugs herself and realizes the enormity of what she has lost tonight. She continues in her solitary grief until a hand on her shoulder both startles and comforts her. Whipping her head around, she is met by a pair of muddy jean-clad legs standing beside her. She gasps as she looks up, and up, to reach the face of the man she is certain has saved her tonight. As he squats down to reach her height, the moon and firelight's shadows play across his face and strong features. His long blond hair looks dirty and dark in its still-wet condition, and his eyes are cold, deep pools containing a lifetime of stories within them. As soon as she sees him, as if caught under his spell, her crying immediately stops. His near presence makes her feel calm, almost peaceful. He is so beautiful to her, much as a child would find anything that was so comforting to be so beautiful. He gives her a warm, reassuring smile before leaning down and wiping away her remaining tears; he softly traces the scrapes and blood on one of her arms. He looks at his now-bloodied fingers before softly kissing the top of her head. And then he is gone, lost in the moonlit shadows of the chilly evening. And she is left alone._

* * *

*******

"Sookie? Why in the world did you come back to work today?" Barbara Beck asked her assistant, disbelief evident in her voice.

"I'm okay, Barbara," the young woman answered, placing her purse on the reference desk as she turned on her computer. She waited for the system to boot up before glancing back to see the older woman watching her with concern.

"Really, I'd rather be here in the library than at home… alone, thinking about Gran…" Sookie said, and her voice trailed off as she choked up. She looked down in an effort to hide her tears, but Barbara pulled her into a warm hug, wanting to console her as best she could.

"You do whatever helps and works for you, Sookie. I know how you must feel," her boss said sympathetically. But could she _really_ understand how the young woman was feeling? Barbara was lucky enough to still have the family who raised her; she had her husband, Alcee, with whom she shared her life and home; and she had siblings, with whom she could communicate her joys and sorrows. Sookie had none of those things, and now that her Gran had passed away, she had never felt so alone in her entire life.

But Sookie kept these resentful thoughts to herself, politely nodding at the kind woman's gesture of comfort. She removed her fleece jacket to get into 'work mode' and settled herself at the central reference desk to keep her mind busy and her loneliness at bay. Overall, she enjoyed her job here; it afforded her the relative calm and quiet that she needed to counteract the turbulence that often threatened to fill her head. The voices, the thoughts of others, had always haunted her waking moments, although she had gotten better at blocking them out in more recent years.

Gran's death just four days ago had been sudden and unexpected. The old woman's heart simply gave out, and Sookie deeply regretted not having been home on the afternoon it occurred. Not that Sookie could have done anything to stop death's course, but knowing that her grandmother had been completely alone in her final moments was a hard fact for Sookie to accept.

To say the two Stackhouse women had been close was an understatement, indeed. Adele loved and nurtured the young child who had faced heartbreak at such a young age; and Adele had suffered a great loss that evening as well -- the loss of a son and daughter-in-law -- and their shared grief brought them even closer. Sookie's recovery after that fateful accident almost fifteen years ago had been a slow and difficult one. And if it hadn't been for Adele's steadfast love, devotion, and attention to her granddaughter, Sookie might never have healed as much as she did.

Even before the tragedy, Sookie felt like an outsider, like she didn't quite belong anywhere. Children can be unkind, and it was no different in the small town of Bon Temps, Louisiana. Her fellow students considered her unusual and strange, taunting and treating her cruelly sometimes. After the sensational accident on Halloween, things only got worse as Sookie became the main topic of conversation among both old and young. Insensitive classmates, who seemed to find pleasure in her pain, nicknamed her "Spooky Sookie." The eerie timing and horrific circumstances, as well as her mysterious survival, contributed to hushed whispers, curious stares, and unwelcome pity. Adele tried to shelter her granddaughter as best she could, but it was impossible to fully overcome the gossip and narrow-mindedness of the townspeople.

Sookie was fortunate to have one dear friend, Tara Thornton, who seemed able to look past Sookie's 'oddness' to form a more normal relationship with her. Sookie tried to be like the other girls, to branch out beyond the safety net of Tara, but there was always something unspoken just below the surface that hinted at Sookie's 'otherness.' The truth was she would never quite fit in, her history and peculiarities forever setting her apart.

Time inevitably passed, and with Gran's love and Tara's support, Sookie somehow survived her teenage years. Although she was quite an attractive girl, blonde and curvaceous, boys were hesitant to try dating someone so, so… _different_. Of course, they would have been happy to simply use her for sex and move on, but Sookie would never have consented to something like that, something so ordinary. No, she was waiting for something special -- _someone_ who would finally take her away from the sadness and solitude she faced every day.

She never expressed the true depths of her unhappiness to anyone, not even to Gran. Sookie simply retreated further into herself, to the safe world of her imagination, where no one could harm her. Sometimes, when she was feeling especially lonely, her mind would return to that full-moon Halloween night -- not to the tragedy and horror of it, but to the comfort and safety that a stranger had given her at a time when she had needed it most. In her hazy memory, she embellished her rescuer's qualities so that it became hard to distinguish between what was real and what was not. She had built him up to be the handsomest man she had ever known. He was strong and brave and willing to risk his life to save her. He was kind, yet mysterious and almost… not human.

The phone on Sookie's desk rang, startling her and bringing her back to the here-and-now. Barbara hurried over to pick it up, but Sookie motioned her away. She tried to collect her thoughts before answering the call.

"Reference desk," she said politely. And then, thankfully, she was kept busy researching answers for the caller's tedious questions, happy to focus on something besides her own reality. She then turned her attention to some new books that needed to be catalogued, and Barbara worked with any patron questions, thinking that Sookie would appreciate not having to deal with other people today. A few hours dragged by in this fashion, but work was unable to keep Sookie's mind occupied. Inevitably, her thoughts wandered back to last night, the evening of Gran's funeral.

The mourners and well-wishers had left the old farmhouse by sunset; only their casseroles and condolences remained behind. Tara had generously offered to help Sookie clean up, both the food and the items that were too painful to sort through. The full moon was hauntingly beautiful that night, what her grandmother used to call the 'harvest moon' of October. Sookie sat on a worn rocker on the wide porch, a faded afghan wrapped around her shoulders. She looked at the moon, hypnotized by its glow, calmed by its beauty and perfect form. She felt a small tear trickle down her cheek, remembering that same moon on a darker night long ago, another night when she was also surrounded by death.

Her tired, puffy eyes lowered to scan the moonlit yard, watching the trees slightly sway under the night wind's firm touch. And then she saw him: a tall figure standing at the far edge of the trees, his features hidden in the shadows. Was he real or some phantom, a creature of the night? He slowly approached her, and she felt paralyzed by his presence, her heart ready to jump out of her body. The stranger stopped when he reached the edge of the porch, the moonlight and perimeter lights illuminating his strong features. She gasped at the familiar figure before her, captivated by his handsome face, the long blond hair, those deep, blue eyes. He was as beautiful now as he was then, and he did not appear to be much older than her. How was that possible after almost fifteen years?

Neither of them spoke; they simply stared at one another, and then he moved closer, and she could feel herself tense with anticipation.

She had imagined him in various forms over the years, but she still never fully believed that he was more than a fantasy. And her image of him had changed as she matured and aged: as a child, she needed him to be the handsome prince who rescued the helpless princess; as a teen, she had transformed him into the misunderstood bad-boy who would patiently wait for her; and as an adult, he had become the passionate lover who indulged and satisfied her every desire.

But she had no actual evidence of his existence, nothing tangible to hold on to, no proof that he was _real_. How many times had she tried to convince herself that her rescuer that stormy night had been merely a figment of a scared child's imagination? Yet here he was, returned to her in her time of need.

"It's you," she whispered, unable to utter anything more coherent.

As he towered above her seated figure, he took one of her small hands into his own large one. She was surprised by his cold touch, by how it was responsible for the warm blush rising in her cheeks. It also warmed other parts of her body, awakening her to sensations she had only been able to bring about before by her own touch. His long fingers slowly caressed hers, and each stroke sent a welcome tremor through her now-trembling body.

He gently pulled her from the rocker to stand before him; his large stature was both commanding and comforting to her. The afghan quietly slipped to the leaf-covered porch floor, and the cool night breeze sent shivers down her arms.

"I have been waiting for you," he replied, his voice hypnotic and enthralling.

"Are you real?" she asked, and he nodded with a slight grin. They stared at each other, and with the porch light directly illuminating him, she was able to notice just how blue and penetrating his eyes really were. She felt as if she was being pulled to him and him to her, almost like there was a connection between them.

But that bond was abruptly severed when a concerned voice called from the house to check on the well-being of a friend. The man's eyebrows arched in question, and Sookie hesitated before responding to the other woman.

"You are not alone," he said, quickly releasing her hand and stepping away from her.

Sookie shook her head and turned towards the kitchen. "I'm okay, Tara," she called back. "No need to come out here now," she added, quickly turning back to the mysterious stranger. She was afraid to lose sight of him, afraid he would disappear again, into the night.

"Close your eyes," he said softly, and Sookie obeyed without question. The sound of her rapidly beating heart filled her head, and she almost screamed with the anticipation of what was to come.

"It's okay, I have you," a soothing voice promised as he pulled her closer to him. He smelled of freshly-turned earth, a scent familiar to her from her gardening days with Gran, a scent that called to her in the most inviting way.

She soon felt his soft, cool lips touch hers, sending jolts of electricity through her body. He was slow and gentle at first with his kisses, making her all the more anxious and eager. The intensity built and built as their lips found a rhythm and then he pulled away from her mouth to run his wicked tongue along her neck. She shivered as he nuzzled in closer to her hair to nip at her earlobe, her body expecting to feel his ragged breath tickle her neckline. But there was no ragged breath; in fact, it was as if he had no breath at all. He moved in to whisper in her ear, his long blond hair brushing against her neck and shoulders. He expertly ran his hands through her loose hair, further enchanting and exciting her.

"Come to me on the next full-moon," he entreated, his voice smooth and silky. "You need not be alone anymore, lover." She couldn't help but moan a little at the intimate term of endearment he had just used. She knew she should feel ashamed of her "improper" response to this stranger, on the night of her grandmother's funeral no less. But he didn't feel like a stranger to her after all of these years, and his presence was comforting to her, if not arousing.

He gently pulled away, and she opened her eyes to meet his intense gaze. Had she been thinking clearly, she would have asked a million questions of him; but she was far from rational thought at the moment, so she merely nodded her agreement to him. He smiled very widely at her response, but then, for a flash of a second, it almost seemed like his eyes blazed red, his face transformed into something sinister, and a fanged, predatory smile replaced his expression. She had to blink to be sure of what her eyes were registering, but then the unsettling image was gone. She must have simply been mistaken in her vision, for he was only a young man on a moonlit porch wishing a young woman goodnight.

She watched him slowly cross the yard, only to disappear back into the shadow of the trees, the sound of leaves softly rustling in the cool, night breeze. She was left with the same question she had when she first saw him tonight: was he real or some phantom, a creature of the night?

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*******

Sookie's head was throbbing by now, but she was determined to try and work through the afternoon. As the minutes passed, it became more and more difficult to concentrate as unanswered questions swirled through her head.

Did last night really happen? The kisses had felt real, and so had her raging hormones. She had tried to make sense of the situation, to comprehend how this stranger could be the same man from so long ago. He seemed to know her, though; he said he had waited for her. Was it possible her mind had played tricks? Given the stress of the past few days, it was quite probable.

If the seductive stranger _was_ real, how would she know when and where to find him when the moon was full again? She quickly searched her computer for the lunar calendar, and her heart sank when she realized that October 31st would be the next full moon. How she dreaded the pain of that cursed day, the day when the world around her would be decorated and dressed up. She tried to console herself that this year, Halloween would finally be different. Instead of the usual cruel trick that fate always played on her, this time a wonderful treat was in store with her handsome, mysterious savior. She thought back to his voice, his touch, his kiss. Last night had only been a hint of something greater yet to come, something life-altering, she was certain.

Sookie went through the motions at work by completing requisitions for some upcoming new releases, but her heart was certainly not in her job today. Barbara noticed, of course, but was kind enough to give her assistant the space she seemed to desire. By 3:00, Sookie gave up any further attempts at 'normalcy' and finally said she was going home, much to the relief of her boss. The young woman realized that she needed someone to talk to, to help her sort out her head and her heart. And she could only think of one person to go to: Gran.

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*******

She carried a bouquet of wild Louisiana irises, freshly picked from the back of Gran's garden. The purple and white flowers had been Adele's favorite, and Sookie thought her Gran would appreciate having them close to her. The walk to the cemetery was a short one from the house, although it was difficult terrain in places and tricky to navigate if you didn't know your way. For years, many of the children at school had taunted Sookie about living next to a spooky graveyard; after all, it fit perfectly with her horrid nickname and was yet one more example of what made her seem so strange. But Sookie never minded the cemetery's proximity to the house. It brought her comfort to know her parents were nearby, as well as generations of Stackhouse family, watching over her, perhaps. The burial ground bordered Stackhouse land to the north and served as a boundary line between their property and that of the Comptons.

A generations-old family as well, the Comptons were part of the original settlers of Bon Temps; most of their descendants were also buried in the shared cemetery. When Sookie was a little girl, she would sometimes explore the 'other side' of the graveyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone from the Compton house. Maybe they had a daughter with whom she could talk and play! She imagined the many adventures she and her new friend would share. How nice it would be to have someone who would understand her and accept her as she was! But unfortunately, there was no such friend waiting there for Sookie. The Comptons had abandoned their property many years before, and the house had fallen into disrepair from lack of care. It was rumored that a distant relative still owned it, but he/she certainly didn't see fit to invest any money into the upkeep of the property, and it remained neglected.

Sookie paused at the freshly-dug gravesite and kneeled to gently place the long, iris stalks on top of the grave. The sweet smell of the blooms mixed with the earthy aroma of her surroundings. Changing leaves had scattered themselves across the burial plot, the dark dirt enlivened by the splash of color. It would take at least a month before the simple, carved headstone would be ready for placement, so all Sookie could now behold was fresh dirt beneath a small grave marker with Adele's name. Sookie fought back tears when she saw that marker, as if a lifetime of love and meaning could so easily be reduced to a simple sign with a name on it.

She sat down and hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She began slowly, telling her Gran about the mysterious stranger, how she had dreamt of him over the years, how he always changed into whomever she needed. As she continued, she could feel relief slowly wash over her. Sookie then poured her heart out, telling the silent grave about the loneliness and despair she often felt, feelings she had never wanted to share when Gran was still alive. She finished with the tale of the strange evening before and of her promise to go to the unnamed man on the next full-moon Halloween night.

Feeling better after their 'talk' but not anxious to return yet to the empty house, Sookie decided to keep walking though the cemetery. She paused at the nearby grave of her parents, slowly running her fingers along their double headstone by way of a greeting. She would be back at the end of the month for a longer visit, as she always did on the anniversary of their deaths.

She continued to wander, looking at the old and weathered graves, reading their inscriptions again after all these years. As a child, she had often explored here, unafraid, imagining the history of the people and the lives that came before her. She halted at the plain grave of William Compton who, based on his death date, was most likely a Civil War casualty. With the passage of time, much of the headstone's lettering was hard to read, but she could decipher that he had been a beloved husband and father.

She kept walking, exploring the far recesses of the graveyard until she found herself on the other side, on Compton property. She stood before the sprawling antebellum house which was even more dilapidated and run-down than she had remembered. Weeds and overgrown vegetation blocked a clear view, and any kind of direct path, to the home. She could see the rotting boards which covered the windows and doors; with sundown quickly approaching, the looming image before her was an ominous one. Goose bumps rose to the surface of her skin, and she gave an involuntary shudder -- a normal human reaction, given the house's spooky appearance and even spookier history. The property was haunted, or so it was rumored, and over the years a few daring teens had been foolish enough to try and enter the abandoned dwelling.

Sookie could vividly recall when a group of Bon Temps High School jocks had dared the star quarterback, Gary "Red" Delacroix, to break into the Compton house. Red, so nicknamed on account of his shocking-red hair, was always up to a challenge, especially one that would prove himself braver than his teammates. So, one particular Halloween night, the wild group headed to the Compton house, carrying flashlights and crowbars, aiming for mischief. The teens were drinking beer that evening, as confirmed by the littered bottles later found by the investigating police. After downing some liquid courage, only Red was bold enough to pry away the rotting boards covering a downstairs window, and he slipped inside the old house on that moonlit, chilly night. To complete the dare and satisfy his friends, he needed to shine his flashlight from the attic window, back to the boys outside. It took a few long minutes, but they finally saw a light playing behind the half-boarded highest window to indicate that Red had accomplished his mission.

But for some reason, the tough, confident quarterback never made it back outside. At first, his friends suspected he was simply playing a trick on them, and they toyed with the idea of leaving him behind. The more time that passed, however, they realized it likely that Red was hurt and unable to get back out. But not one of those big, strong football players was brave enough to go in and rescue their friend. And since they were underage and drunk, nobody was in a hurry to call the police, either. So they did what foolish, immature teenagers often do when faced with a serious problem: they panicked and high-tailed it out of there, leaving Red alone to face whatever the Compton house had to offer him.

By the next day, Red Delacroix was missed by more than a few inebriated football players. His parents involved the police, and eventually search dogs were called in to try and find the boy. But it was all for nothing; the quarterback had simply vanished without a trace. By the time the last piece of wood had been reattached to the doors and windows, every square inch of that decaying, empty house had been explored. Red Delacriox was gone.

The whole strange incident became an even more sensational story than the tragic Stackhouse accident years before. Most everyone in the small town believed the eerie rumors concerning the Compton house, and they tried their best to stay far, far away. Gran always said there must be some reasonable explanation, that the notion of a 'haunted' house was sheer nonsense. But Sookie was never sure what to believe after Red's disappearance, so she eyed the decrepit house with a great deal of apprehension. Was poor Red still trapped somewhere inside, just waiting for his remains to be discovered?

Chilled by the autumn wind and dropping temperature, as well as her recent morbid thoughts, Sookie decided to head back home. It was getting dark anyway, and it would be difficult to travel the path without the aid of daylight. She glanced back one more time at the Compton house and shivered before hurrying back through the graveyard. By the time she reached her parents' graves, the last rays of the sun were disappearing. The cemetery suddenly seemed more sinister in the twilight, and she began sprinting over the uneven terrain, almost tripping on several occasions. Her paranoia was building; she had the disturbing feeling that she was being watched but was too rattled to look behind her. When she finally caught sight of the back of the old farmhouse, she sighed and laughed a little at her foolishness. The floodlight sensors kicked in as she approached the rear doorway, bathing her in welcoming brightness and relief.

* * *

*******

The next few weeks passed slowly for Sookie. Gran's death was still too fresh and painful, and the loneliness and grief became overwhelming at times. Nighttime was the only time she felt at peace. Many cool evenings were spent on the old porch rocker, her thoughts centered on the unnamed man and on her anticipation of seeing him once more. She would eagerly wait on those nights with an afghan wrapped around her for warmth, hoping the beautiful stranger would appear before her again. But he never did. The only time she found herself in his arms was when she slept, during vivid and intense dreams filled with the promise that she would no longer be alone.

She continued to work at the library but would often become distracted by sudden grief, or sometimes, by unexpected excitement. October 31st finally arrived, after torturous weeks of holiday preparation. It was a horribly painful time for her, understandably, and trying to avoid Halloween and all of its trappings was nearly impossible. For the past month, businesses and homes had been elaborately decorated in orange and black; stores displayed colorful costumes and laughing pumpkins; and excited children everywhere anticipated candy and trick-or-treating. Even the library had 'spooky' signs and jack-o-lanterns which Sookie had to constantly endure, culminating with a special 'haunted book-reading' on Halloween evening. Being surrounded by this, all day, would be more than she could bear, so she had wisely asked to take off work for the holiday.

The weather was beautiful that Halloween morning: clear, bright skies with a crisp chill in the autumn air. She slept late after a fitful night of strange dreams. One particular dream had left her breathless and shaken by how _real_ it had seemed. In the dream, it was the night of the full moon again, the night he arrived on her porch to surprise her. But this time, there is no friend inside to disturb them; they are truly alone.

She feels like she is under a spell, her emotions a strange mixture of both calmness and desire. He leans in towards her to slowly remove the afghan from her shoulders, tossing it on the nearby rocker. The loss of its warmth, coupled with the cool night winds blowing across her thin dress, make her shiver.

"Do not be afraid," he whispers before kissing her, his kisses more urgent than those she experienced in real life, and she soon forgets the chill surrounding her. The autumn wind plays with his long hair, whipping it around them, sweeping strands across their faces as their mouths and tongues connect.

His hands deftly work their way to the back of her dress, unzipping her in one fluid motion before his kisses and hands become more demanding. When the garment falls to the porch floor, she feels vulnerable and exposed in just her slip and camisole—this is more than any other man has ever seen of her before. But soon his expert cool touch on her body eases her anxiety and awakens a long-buried need within her.

He runs his long fingers up and down her body, stopping to circle her breasts through the lace, bringing her to new levels of arousal. His practiced hands move lower and lower, tugging down her slip so that her lace underwear is now exposed to his caresses. He smoothly works two fingers under the elastic, further teasing her with his skilled stroking. She arches and pushes against him, wanting more, needing more, and moaning at the welcome sensation of his fingers finally slipping inside of her. She clings to him, shaking in need and anticipation as he keeps stroking and curling, finding the exact spot he knows will bring her the most pleasure.

"Yield to me," he whispers in her ear, and his words send her over the edge, bringing her a sudden rush of bliss and contentment. She trembles with the aftershocks and tries to regain her breath, and he holds her tightly, kissing and sucking on her neck until she feels like she can no longer stand. He reaches for the afghan to spread across the cold porch floor, releasing her briefly to do so. Her hands reach out desperately for him to return to her—she has never before wanted and needed something so badly. Grinning at her reaction, he slowly undresses himself while she watches in rapt fascination, still spellbound by his presence.

Under the moonlight, his naked form is absolute perfection. His long, sculpted body and well-defined muscles invite further exploration, and it is evident that he is as aroused as her. Yet, despite her burning desire and need, she is overwhelmed by the prospect of what is to come. She wants to tell him that he is her first, that she is frightened, that she may disappoint him. But he senses her apprehension, silencing her with a finger to her lips before she can utter a single syllable.

He replaces his finger with his cool lips on her warm ones, and his talented tongue and soothing kisses help diminish her fears. She feels herself being gently pulled down to the afghan on the floor, his firm body pressing against hers as he shifts his weight on top of her. Easing up her camisole, he begins to lick and suck each breast in turn, fueling her longing once again. Her heart races and she closes her eyes in ecstasy, running her nails across the valleys of his sculpted back. The hypnotic sound of the rustling trees fills her head, the soothing touch of the night breeze sweeps over her skin. As her panties are lowered, she can feel him pressing at her entrance, hard and ready; she tries to steady her breathing, but it is impossible.

"Look at me, lover," he demands, and she opens her eyes to meet the blue, penetrating gaze directly above her. He kisses her gently, and she is calmed instantly.

"MINE," is all he says before he enters her, thrusting with a force that surprises her in its intensity. The pain is exquisite but then so is the subsequent pleasure, and she screams, unable to control herself. He continues to push into her in a steady rhythm until she eventually matches his pace; she is still reeling from the pain but is also reaching new heights of pleasure, a strange combination. He growls and his thrusts become more urgent as he seeks his own release, and she rises up to meet him, in great need as well. And as they both climax together, the peaceful moonlit night is filled with the primal sounds of screams and growls amidst the soft rustling of the swaying trees.

* * *

*******

She drank some much-needed hot coffee as she sat on her porch, trying to recover from her latest dream. Warm sweatpants and a fleece jacket kept her cozy and comfortable. This was going to be a difficult day for her, as always, but she resolved to focus more on the evening ahead and the happiness it would bring her. But how was she supposed to find him, a man whose name she did not even know? Maybe he would return to her porch or knock at her front door. Given their strange connection and history, though, she was certain they would just _know_ how to find one another.

Sookie wanted to look attractive tonight, unlike the grieving mess she had been on the night he last visited her. So she treated herself to a shopping spree at a local clothing boutique, a rare indulgence. A sexy cranberry-colored sweater, paired with a short black suede skirt, would work in this weather; patterned tights and black leather boots would complete the ensemble. She looked at herself in the dressing room mirror and wondered why she had let herself go unnoticed for so long. She was quite an attractive woman, but she lacked self-confidence—she never showed herself off, never allowed herself the happiness of being admired.

She paid for her selections, then stopped by the florist downtown to buy two elaborate fall bouquets—one for her parents and one for Gran. Because of her unsettling experience several weeks ago, she hadn't been back yet to the cemetery. She reminded herself that last time she had just overreacted to the Compton house and the darkness; she had no reason to fear going back there. Anyway, she would never miss visiting her parents on this day, of all days.

It was late afternoon by the time she returned home, so she made a quick supper for herself and decided to head to the cemetery immediately — daylight was already fading. She would just have to shower and change later, after she returned home from visiting the graves. Throwing on a denim jacket, she grabbed the colorful autumn flowers and worked her way down the familiar path behind her house. Gran's headstone still remained missing, and the tiny marker was the only reminder to the world of Adele Stackhouse's final resting place. Sookie said a few heartfelt words to her grandmother before placing a fresh bouquet on the grave. She went in search of her parents next. The weather was quickly turning colder; she briskly rubbed her arms and shoulders, trying to warm her blood. When she reached the double graves, she noticed something mud-stained and white lying across the dark dirt. She leaned down for a closer look, dropping the flowers and screaming when she finally realized what lay directly below her: delicate gauze-and-wire fairy wings.

* * *

*******

She awoke sometime later, alone in the darkness, on the cold ground next to her parents' headstones. Several leaves now covered her, blown there on their windy journey through the graveyard. She shivered with cold and sat up, looking at her moonlit surroundings in confusion. If not for the beautiful full moon tonight, she would have been unable to see much of anything. When she recognized the nearby outline of the handmade wings, she groaned and jumped up in fear, wanting to distance herself from them. She tried to steady her racing heart and catch her breath, closing her eyes to stop the tears from falling.

When she had calmed down enough to breathe more normally, she started the journey back home. She would have preferred to jog – no, _run_ -- the distance back to the house, but she was lucid enough to realize that she could easily trip and fall in the darkness if she wasn't careful. She tried not to think about the situation she was in and how those wings found their way to her parents' graves. She pulled her jacket tightly around herself, willing her mind to focus on getting home as soon as possible.

Even with the moon's warm light to guide her, however, she couldn't seem to locate the correct direction to head. She walked in circles for at least a half-hour, in her estimation; she passed her parents' graves and those wretched wings at least four times. Eventually she found herself in a section of the cemetery that she recognized as Compton territory. How did she end up here? How she wished her handsome rescuer could be here right now, able to protect and save her again.

She stopped and tried to gain her bearings and that was when she heard the music. It was faint but melodic to her ears, and she strained to hear in which direction it originated. She hesitated but then walked towards the sweet inviting sounds, her body relaxing somewhat as the notes strengthened in volume. The moonlight led her to the clearing beyond the graveyard, and she found herself at the edge of the Compton property. She stood in shock and awe, not believing the sight before her eyes.

The massive yard was illuminated by elegant lights dotted along the property line, revealing a fully restored and maintained antebellum home and garden. The yard was impeccably landscaped, without a trace of the weeds and wild flora which obscured the property just weeks ago. Smooth stone paths led through the garden up to the sprawling house, its exterior spotless, its columns freshly painted, its verandahs wide and sweeping. The once-dilapidated structure was inexplicably new again, and filled with raucous revelers, by the sight and sound of things. Through the unboarded windows, Sookie could see light and people filling the downstairs rooms as music and laughter echoed throughout the yard.

Sookie felt herself drawn to the house, the music, the guests. She slowly followed the winding path that led to the front porch, the full moon illuminating what the perimeter lights did not. Several of the party-goers watched her through the front windows, smiling at her, further drawing her in. As she climbed the steep front steps to the immaculate porch, the main door swung open of its own accord, as if inviting her into the festivities. The haunting music and infectious laughter filled her head until all she could think was that she wanted to be a part of it all, rather than remain outside, alone.

She walked through the wide doorway to find an even more ornate and decorative interior than she could have imagined. The wood floors were gleaming and the rich furnishings looked authentic 19th century in style. Elaborate candle-lit chandeliers adorned the ceilings, and abundant wax pillars and wall sconces illuminated the rooms. Candles filled the entire house, in fact, as if electricity did not belong in this setting. The guests were diverse and of varying ages, but they had one thing in common: they were beautiful. All of them. They dressed in attire from an assortment of time periods, and Sookie realized this must be a Halloween costume party. In comparison to them, she felt self-conscious and plain in her dirty jeans and jacket; but no one seemed to notice her, or if they did, they left her alone. She reached out to 'hear' their thoughts, but was met with a most welcome silence instead. Only the lovely, hypnotic music filled her head.

She wandered into what must have been an informal sitting room, to find a handsome dark-haired gentleman intently watching her from the couch. Dressed in a Confederate soldier's uniform, he rose up to meet her and extended his hand in greeting. She hesitantly offered hers, and he held it to his lips to kiss the top of her hand in a practiced manner. It was an old-world gesture that marked him as polite and refined.

"William Compton, your humble servant. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Stackhouse," he said courteously in a soft Southern accent. "Welcome to my home."

"You… you know me?" she asked, astonished.

"We are neighbors, are we not?" he smiled. "Come, we must go see Master Eric. He has been expecting you," he said simply and presented his arm.

A rational person might have objected to this or, at the very least, questioned the circumstances. But Sookie simply looped her arm though his and let him accompany and lead her. Perhaps she was too stunned by the events of the evening, or perhaps she was she was too enthralled by her surroundings to resist. They walked back to the main hallway, and the guests parted to allow them entrance to the main living room, an enormous room situated at the back of the house.

Beautiful people stood in clusters, but the majority gathered towards the front of the room, some of them kneeling before what can only be likened to a _throne_. And seated on the oversized, ornately carved chair was the mysterious man himself, looking regal and commanding. He did not appear to notice her arrival in the doorway as he listened to a red-headed young man bowed before him. Compton slowly moved forward with Sookie, bringing them nearer to the rest of the crowd. The conversation between the two men was too low for her to hear, even at this close distance, but their exchange seemed to be nearing an end. As the young man rose to turn around, he smiled broadly at her, and Sookie gasped when she caught sight of his high school football uniform.

It was as if she suddenly awoke from a dream and became aware of her surroundings. She quickly looked for an escape as a rising panic and urge to flee overcame her, but Compton immediately noticed the change, pulling her closer to him and clamping down on her arm in one swift motion.

"Leaving us so soon, Miss Stackhouse?" he drawled in a way that made her blood turn cold.

Some basic survival instinct kicked in, and she resisted the soldier, fighting and trying to break free from his iron grip. But Compton was much faster and stronger, using both arms to restrain her as he pushed her through the crowd towards Master Eric. Sookie found herself forced roughly to the floor in front of the throne, and she shook with fear, sobbing quietly at her predicament.

"Look at me," a voice said gently, but she was afraid to do so, certain now that her former rescuer would try to bewitch her again. She shook her head and looked down. He motioned away the curious onlookers, giving Compton a curt nod to indicate his services were no longer needed. The guests scattered to corners of the room, laughing and mingling but still covertly watching their leader and his new visitor.

"Do not be afraid," said the soothing voice, the same one from her haunting dreams. He was kneeling down beside her now, his near presence exerting a calming effect she was unable to resist. A small voice inside of her warned her to be wary, warned her to protest. But a bigger part of her wanted to surrender, to give in to him, to no longer be _alone_. He tilted her chin up to meet his mesmerizing eyes and any remaining resistance drained from her body.

"Won't you join me?" he asked, smiling in a way that was both welcoming and frightening. Taking her shaky hand in his steady one, he slowly rose up to his full height, bringing her up along with him. He walked her to the center of the room, and the candlelit fixture above them cast an eerie glow on his smooth, pale features. She now noticed his Halloween costume and almost laughed aloud at the black pants, formal white shirt, and long, flowing cape; the outfit reminded her of a vampire or something from a Gothic romance.

"What… what are you?" she managed to stammer, curious yet afraid of hearing his response.

"Whatever you need me to be," he answered softly, sending a wave of longing throughout her body. He leaned in to kiss her, and her breath hitched with anticipation. Just as in her dreams, she wanted to tell him that he would be her first, that she was frightened, that she would disappoint him. But instead, she closed her eyes, letting herself fall into him and his familiar earthy scent, warmly embracing the comfort he offered her.

"We will be together forever, my lover," he whispered as the beautiful guests moved in, circling their master and his lovely, destined bride. And when the creatures of the night transformed, fangs descending, a lonely young woman's last thoughts centered on the pleasure that awaited her, the joy of no longer being alone.

And then a chilling scream pierced the peaceful moonlit night.

* * *

*******

**A/N:** Much appreciation and many big hugs go to **s. meadows **and** pixiegiggles** for their helpful feedback and re-reading of the many pieces of this story puzzle! Thanks, my darlings!


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